


I Will Find My Home in You

by Eastmava



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Issues, Insecurity, M/M, Self Confidence, Soft Kylux, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-06 05:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eastmava/pseuds/Eastmava
Summary: -“I’m not alone.” It slips out. He hasn’t told his family about Hux yet, greedy to keep it to himself, desperate to avoid the inevitable picking apart all his choices are subjected to by his family. (And maybe, a voice he tries so hard to ignore whispers, if he doesn’t tell his family about Hux now, he won’t have to tell them when Hux decides Kylo really is just another complication he doesn’t need and leaves.)-Kylo takes Hux home for Thanksgiving.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and Happy Thanksgiving to all of my Amrican readers!
> 
> I wanted to have this entirely finished for today, but sadly that did not happen. The second part is mostly complete and I hope to finish it this weekend but I wanted to have something for today.
> 
> This is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy!

If Hux hadn’t been there Kylo probably would never have answered the phone.

 

They were sitting on Kylo’s shabby couch trading slow, dragging kisses that tasted of the too sweet wine they’d been drinking, the starched collar of Hux’s oxford crinkled from being fisted in Kylo’s hands while Hux’s thumb pressed into the throbbing point of Kylo’s neck just hard enough to pull a moan from him. Kylo was trying to work up the courage to slide his hands around Hux and pull his shirt loose, skim his broad hands up the perfect line of Hux’s back and hoping his voice won't break with nerves when he whispers _why don’t we take this to the bedroom_ because even now, months in, after so many nights spent pressed close followed by lazy mornings where they only regretfully pull away from each other Kylo still sometimes can’t quite believe that he gets to have this, have Hux, in his life.

 

He’s just opened his mouth, hoping the words won’t come out all in a rush, when his phone buzzes against the scratched table he had tossed it on earlier. Hux makes a small, frustrated noise but pulls back anyway. “Do you need to get that?” He asks, as though Kylo ever has important calls to take, as if Kylo hasn’t gone weeks without his phone ringing before Hux came along. Even knowing that whatever it is can wait, unlike Hux who has to sometimes apologetically excuse himself in the middle of dinner to keep a near disaster from becoming a full on disaster at work, Kylo picks up his phone because he’s too embarrassed to admit to Hux, beautiful, successful Hux, that he’s not important enough anyone would ever need to get ahold of him right away.

 

“It’s my mom,” he says, a little dumbfounded when he reads her number on the cracked screen.

 

“I’ll just get us some more wine then,” Hux offers, giving Kylo’s leg a firm squeeze before rising gracefully up from the couch, snagging the glasses on the table and heading for the kitchen. Kylo almost stops him, protests that he doesn’t want to pause what they were doing to talk to his mother, but there’s a softness in Hux’s eyes that stills his tongue. He doesn’t know much about Hux’s family, only vague bits and pieces, but he knows Hux’s mother died when he was very young and that he always gets a sad, wistful look, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes pulling deeper, when he thinks about her.

 

That’s the look Hux wears as he walks to Kylo’s kitchen, so with a sigh, because he’s lucky enough to still have a mother to dodge phone calls from, he answers.

 

“Hi, Leia.”

 

“Ben!” She greets, startled. Clearly she hadn’t expected him to answer, just as he hasn’t answered in the past six months, preferring to call her back when he knows she’ll be busy and communicate solely through voicemails.

 

He grits his teeth as she scolds him for being so unreachable, says in a tone that would be concerned from anyone else’s mother that they were worried his phone had gotten turned off, or maybe he had lost it and hadn’t been able to afford a new one with his low wages. He lets her talk, tries to let the judgment she never comes right out with roll off him even if looking around his small apartment and mismatched, thrift store furniture only proves her right. There’s no point in arguing, in pointing out that this isn’t the life he’d imagined he’d be living at almost thirty either, but it’s _his_ life. Movement catches his eye and he turns his head. Hux is leaning against the door to the kitchen, elegant fingers caught around the stem of a wine glass while he looks at Kylo with a smile.

 

His life _definitely_ isn’t all bad.

 

Kylo realizes he’s stopped listening, too enchanted by the sight of Hux in his home, until Leia calls his name in a way which lets him know it’s not the first time.

 

“Yeah, Leia. I’m here. Sorry.”

 

She huffs a short breath, a perfectly performed show of put-uponess she’s perfected over years of politicking that relays her disappointment without having to say a word. “I was asking if you’re coming home for Thanksgiving dinner. Ben, it’s the holidays, and we’re your family.” He winces, at the use of the name he hates, at the guilt trip he knows is waiting for him at the end of the next sentence. “I hate to think of you, alone during the holidays. We should all be together.”

 

“I’m not alone.” It slips out. He hasn’t told his family about Hux yet, greedy to keep it to himself, desperate to avoid the inevitable picking apart all his choices are subjected to by his family. (And maybe, a voice he tries so hard to ignore whispers, if he doesn’t tell his family about Hux now, he won’t have to tell them when Hux decides Kylo really is just another complication he doesn’t need and leaves.)

 

Leia’s saying something but Hux flicks his tongue along the rim of his wine glass as his other hand works open the top button of his shirt. Kylo’s mouth goes dry at the patch of skin, that tempting dip of throat he wants to bite revealed, and Hux gives him a look that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.

 

“Mom, I gotta go,” he tells her, hitting the end call button and cutting off her protests while Hux smirks at him.

 

“All done? How’s your mother?” Hux asks, teasingly innocent. Anything else he may want to say is lost when Kylo bites a kiss to his lips and hauls Hux close with an arm around his waist.

 

The barely touched wine is left on the table by the couch, his phone lost in the cushions, as they takes turns leading and being led down the hall to his bedroom.

 

In the morning Hux leans against Kylo’s chipped laminate counter and swallows down a cup of hot coffee so fast just watching makes Kylo’s throat burn. The morning light filters in through the faded curtains that were up when he moved in and paints Hux’s fiery hair a burnished gold, the deep bruise Kylo sucked against his collarbone stark against all that pale skin.

 

Kylo has to look away, has to leave the room, scared that if he stays looking at Hux much longer he’ll say words it’s much too soon for, words it’s getting harder to keep from saying everyday, when Hux fits so seamlessly into his life, when all the odd parts of Kylo that never made much sense before seem to line up perfectly with Hux’s.

 

Picking up the discarded wine glass from the night before is the perfect excuse to turn away and try to talk a little sense into himself. His phone is still on the cushions and he knows he needs to charge it otherwise it won’t make it through the day. Kylo pick it up to take into his bedroom and frowns when he sees there’s an unread text message.

 

It’s from Leia. He braces himself for a scathing tell off, for Leia’s diplomatic brand of telling him he’s an ungrateful child and making him feel six years old again without ever actually saying a mean word.

 

What he finds is so much worse.

 

**Leia: Bring them with you! We’d all love to meet them!**

 

____

 

As soon as Hux parks his BMW outside of Han and Leia’s house Kylo’s hand shoots out and grabs Hux’s still of the gear shift, and squeezes. “There’s still time to change our minds,” he offers. “Spend tomorrow with Chinese takeout and Netflix.”

 

Kylo had ignored the message from Leia for three days, thrown himself into writing papers for his classes and picking up as many extra shifts at the restaurant he served at as he could while still finding time to spend with Hux until his cousin Rey had called. He hadn't answered while he was at work, but when he got off and stood huddled at the bus stop to go home he had listened to the message, which had been a single, accusing word.

 

_‘Coward,’_ was all she had said, and after he had gone home and showered Kylo had sat on his bed and stared at his phone, willing himself to call Hux.

 

Hux had seemed quietly pleased with the invitation, accepted easily and hadn’t made it sound like he was doing Kylo a favor at all, hashing out details with the same serious tone he used when working. “I’m looking forward to meeting them,” Hux had said right before hanging up and Kylo had had to swallow the urge to respond that at least one of them was.

 

Kylo had spent the next two days trying to convince himself this wasn’t a terrible idea and the previous hour drive had only made it worse. By the time they arrived he had chewed the skin around three fingers bloody and worn a hole in the cuff of his sweatshirt. Hux hadn’t said much, just gave Kylo a look that wasn’t quite a smile but was so fond it made Kylo’s chest ache and kept the music, something light and instrumental that Kylo was sure he should recognize but Hux was the one with the sophisticated taste in classical music, not himself, turned low and reached over to take Kylo’s hand in his own when he began biting his thumb nail so at least not all of Kylo’s fingers would be picked raw, a silent, heady reminder that whatever was waiting for him he wouldn’t face it alone.

 

Kylo had almost cried with relief at the touch.

 

“We can, if you want,” Hux tells him, soft and easy, as if he wouldn’t be mad Kylo had just made Hux pick him up and drive an hour to his parents house only to turn around again before they even went inside. Hux leans across the center console and drops a kiss to Kylo’s cheek. “Or we could just sit here for a minute, until you’re ready.”

 

Kylo blows out a heavy breath, grateful for Hux, for his unquestioning support. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” Hux turns his hand, curls their fingers together, and says nothing, just lets their breaths fill the silence

 

It had taken Kylo a while to figure out why Hux had been so willing to come, had agreed so easily to spending two nights away from home with strangers. Hux’s family consisted of a cold father and an even colder step-mother. Kylo’s family, especially to an outsider who hadn’t endured a lifetime of their disapproving remarks and unmet expectations, must seem near perfect.

 

Kylo takes a deep breath, steeling himself. For all that he’s lacking he can at least offer Hux this, a family to be with for Thanksgiving.

 

“Alright,” he says, and squeezes Hux’s hand tight one last time before letting go. “I’m ready.”

 

They gather their bags and it’s with a trembling hand that Kylo rings the doorbell. As they wait under the porchlight Hux reaches up with the hand not holding his bag and tuck Kylo’s hair behind his ear. The morning after their first night together Hux had rolled against him in bed and suggested a shower, voice going low and throaty as he ran a hand down the plane of Kylo’s chest. Kylo had bitten his lip and almost refused, but the delicious drag of Hux’s hand on his skin was too good. When they had ducked under the spray and the water had flattened his hair Hux had reached up with a curious hand and traced a finger along the shell of Kylo’s ear poking through his hair. He had winced, the desire to hide that overgrown part of him with his hair the reason why he had almost refused the shower, and had braced himself for the mocking words he knew were coming. But instead Hux had simply smiled at him, and reading the sudden stiffness in the way Kylo held himself said nothing. But ever since he’s made a habit of brushing Kylo’s hair aside. He had hated it at first, but there was never anything but affection in Hux’s touch, and slowly he had decided that maybe it didn’t matter if he hated his ears so long as Hux saw something in them worth liking.

 

Except this time Hux’s hand stays, slides around to the back of his neck and then cuts a path Kylo swears he can feel the warmth of even through his coat to settle in the small of his back. That’s how Leia finds them when she opens the door and Kylo can’t help his flush because there’s something so intimate about the touch, just simple contact he can draw strength from, a reminder that Hux is here, beside him, that it feels wrong to be seen sharing it.

 

“Ben!” Leia greets, and if she notices his discomfort she pretends otherwise.

 

Kylo flinches at the name and realizes he never told Hux about the name his parents gave him, the one he changed at eighteen but a decade later his family still insists on using. He glances at Hux but there’s no surprise on his face, only a warm, if bland smile.

 

Leia makes a face when Kylo ducks her outstretched arms and instead of the hug she was anticipating gives her a quick handshake. “Leia, this is, this is Hux,” he introduces, dropping her hand and stuffing his own into his pockets.

 

Hux straightens even more and smoothly holds out a hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you. Thank you for inviting me to your home. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Hux says, and if Kylo hadn’t spent every moment he could with Hux over the past three months he wouldn’t notice the stiffness to the words. Hux is nervous.

 

Kylo ducks his head to hide his smile.

 

“Yes, well,” Leia begins in a tone that implies if she were less diplomatic she’d be turning her nose up while she briefly accepts Hux’s hand. “I wish I could say the same.”

 

“Leia!”

 

“Well really, Ben. What do you expect? We don’t hear from you for months then you show up on the doorstep with a stranger.”

 

He opens his mouth to argue, to tell Leia that her harsh words are just fine for him but Hux deserves better, but the hand Hux has kept on his back presses in, Hux’s thumb digging into a growing knot of muscle, and his anger drops as he’s reminded of what’s important here.

 

He sighs. “Can we come in? Our bags are heavy.”

 

Leia’s eyes dart to Hux, to how close together they’re standing, Hux’s constant, steady touch, and her eyes sharpen for a flash, expression unreadable, before it softens. “Of course,” she says, and finally steps out of the doorway.

 

Hux’s hand finally slides from it’s resting place but Kylo doesn’t feel bereft for long as he loosely tangles their fingers together. It’s with Hux’s hand warm in his that Kylo steps into his childhood home.  

   


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya folks! Sorry this took so incredibly long to come back with. 
> 
> If you notice the chapter count changed. The fic is finished but this part ended up being 14 thousand words, so I made the decision to split it in half. So the final part is already written, it just needs to be edited, which I hope to do tonight or tomorrow.
> 
> A quick warning, there is a brief mention of Kylo having some mental health issues and a quick line about him have some sort of a breakdown in the past. There's also a brief desciption about the beginning of a possible anxiety attack. Nothing graphic, but I did want to warn. If you have any further questions about this before you start reading, please feel free to ask for clarification either in the comments or on my Tumblr.
> 
> Otherwise, cheers, thanks for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

Leia directs them upstairs to Kylo’s old bedroom and Hux’s hand stays firmly in his even as they navigated the narrow stairs. He pushes open the door and is torn between relief and disappointment when he sees Leia has redecorated it and it looks like nothing more than a generic guestroom, the walls a soft ivory, the bedspread and pillow shams a deep, calming blue. 

 

He knows he shouldn’t be surprised. He hasn’t been in this house at all in the last five years and Leia hated his room when he was a teenager, the walls plastered with band posters and lyrics scrawled in sharpie on the wall, the sheets he has tossed into the washing machine with two boxes of Rit dye that had come out a deep, inky black that stained his skin for months afterward. While he hadn’t wanted to expose Hux to the full glory of his angry teenage psyche he had hoped there would at least be some evidence that he had slept in this room for eighteen years, some small part left he could share with Hux.

 

Hux knocks his shoulder against Kylo’s and it startles him out of his moment of reflection, makes him realizes he’s standing in the doorway blocking the entrance and Hux is probably tired and would like to set down his bag. “Everything alright?”

 

“Yeah.” Kylo shakes his head and looks at Hux, the slight furrow of his brow that says he’s worried. He squeezes Hux’s hand to reassure him he’s fine even if he’s not completely sure he is. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He finally steps past the doorway and drops his bag on the floor, sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. Hux looks around curiously, as if trying to determine what stopped Kylo from walking in right away. “This was my room,” he explains with a shrug.

 

Hux makes a noise that Kylo thinks is a supposed to be a question without actually asking it, leaving Kylo to ignore it if he doesn’t want to answer. Appreciation and affection and something dangerous he’s not quite ready to name swell and make his chest feel too small for his heart. 

 

“Obviously Leia’s redecorated. I should’ve figured,” he explains with a weak shrug.

 

“Obviously,” Hux agrees. “Your taste isn’t this good.”

 

“Hey!” Kylo protests, but Hux is smiling and he sits next to him on the bed and there’s no real judgment in Hux’s words, just gentle teasing, another out if he doesn’t want to talk about it. 

 

He doesn’t, and when Hux toes off his shoes and swings his legs onto the bed it’s an easy decision to mirror the action, to stretch out next to Hux and take the moment’s offered reprieve. “Shoes,” Hux scolds, and Kylo rolls his eyes but kicks off his beaten up Converse without unlacing them.

 

Hux’s fingers find their way to his hair and bury into the unruly waves, blunt, trimmed nails scratching against his scalp in a shivery good way that sends tingles down his spine. He presses into the touch and Hux curls his fingers and tugs, just hard enough to feel good, and Kylo’s entire body melts against him, muscles turned liquid, before Hux lets go and his magic fingers take up the soothing scratch again. He feels like a spoiled cat and if he were he’s certain he’d be purring. 

 

Hux’s fingers eventually fall away and come to curl around Kylo’s shoulder while they pretend, just for a while, that there’s nothing but the two of them, in this bed, soaking up warmth from each other. 

 

Hux breaks the silence, signals it with a gentle drag of his fingers along Kylo’s jaw that turns his face to Hux’s. “Can I ask…” Hux trails off, fingers ghosting across the bridge of Kylo’s nose, and Kylo closes his eyes, briefly, then meets Hux’s green, green eyes.

 

He knows what Hux is hesitating to say and when he opens his mouth the words stick in his throat, unable to tell Hux that he changed his name because it was easier to run away and become someone else than fail to meet his family’s expectations. 

 

“You don’t have to,” Hux tells him, words barely a whisper, as if Kylo is some skittish, beaten animal who needs to be treated with care. “If you don’t want.”

 

“No,” he cuts in, swallows. He tucks his head under Hux’s chin and finds if he closes his eyes, just focuses on Hux’s arms around him he can find the strength. “I want to. Kylo’s not my name. I mean, it is, I changed it. I just, I couldn’t be Ben Solo anymore. I was never going to be what they wanted, so it was easier to just be someone else.” He fists a hand in Hux’s shirt and tells himself when Hux pulls away he’ll let him go without a fight even though he knows it’s a lie.

 

But Hux doesn’t try to free himself from Kylo’s grasp, just wraps his arms around him and when Kylo lets out an embarrassed little hiccuping breath he runs a hand down Kylo’s back, warm through the worn thin t shirt he has on. 

 

Kylo’s eyes are drifting closed, longer and longer between each flutter of lashes, warm even though they’re on top of the covers, and Hux’s breath is steady and even, both of them skirting the edges of sleep, when a pounding on the door pulls them both brutally back to wakefulness. 

 

“Ben, c’mon! You’ve been up here for a hour!” Rey shouts through the door, and knocks sharply against it again. 

 

“Hell, Rey. Stop!” He shouts back. Hux’s arm fall away from him with a lingering stroke and he pushes himself up. Hux tries to move too and grimaces as his leg shifts. Kylo gives him an apologetic smile since the way he was stretched across Hux must be the reason it fell asleep.

 

“You better be wearing pants, I’m opening the door,” she calls, and with a click the door swings open.

 

“Christ, Rey,” he mutters, pushing his hair out of his face as she steps inside. “A little privacy.” The years haven’t changed his cousin much, still slight and wiry but with a flash in her eyes that promises a hidden strength.

 

“You’re not a teenager anymore, Ben. Stop sulking in your room like you are.” Kylo grits his teeth against the words he wants to say and instead draws in a deep breath and spares a look at Hux, who’s trying to smooth his mussed hair back and frowning at the knowledge that he’s failing miserably without a mirror to look in. If Rey wasn’t here Kylo would kiss that disgruntled twist to his lips away.

 

He knows this won’t be the last time over the next three days when he wishes his family would disappear, but it’s frustrating that it’s so soon.

 

“Give us a minute. We’ll be right down.” Rey crosses her arms and plants her feet, eyes narrowing in accusation.

 

“Sure. Because you’re already off to such a great start with that.”

 

“Rey, please,” he tries to plead, but her attention is already off him, pulled away by Hux.

 

“You must be Ben’s boyfriend,” she says brightly, all scolding abruptly dropped from her tone. She grins brightly and doesn’t seem at all bothered when Hux offers her nothing but a wan smile in return. “I’m sorry though, Benny never bothered to tell us your name.” 

 

Kylo swallows, tries to find the words to defend himself, to tell Hux it’s not what she’s implying, that he hasn’t hidden Hux from his family because he’s ashamed.

 

Hux saves the moment though by simply ignoring the pointed comment and answering the question Rey never asked. “Hux,” he says simply, and Rey’s face flickers from her sunny expression for just a moment.

 

“Hux?” She confirms, and at Hux’s nod she asks, “Is that short for anything?”

 

“No, just Hux.” He finally slides off the bed, his fingers trailing the length of Kylo’s arm in an obvious way that Rey doesn’t miss and Kylo flushes with the knowledge that Hux didn’t want Rey to miss it, wanted to make it clear that her cleverly disguised little barbs hadn’t hit. “Let me go clean up, then we’ll head downstairs.” 

 

He directs Hux down the hall to the bathroom and the tension in the room ratchets higher with every fading footstep he takes away from the suddenly too small room. They don’t say anything for long minutes, Kylo searching around for his shoes and tugging them on while Rey stands guard, clearly determined to make Kylo keep his promise to come greet the rest of the family.

 

He’s not looking when she finally speaks. “Ya’know, it wouldn’t kill you to call your parents once in a while. They miss you.”   
  


“Funny. They didn’t miss me when they shipped me off to Luke’s for two years when I was fourteen.”   
  


“That was different, Ben, and you know it. They were trying to help. They only want what’s best for you.” She sighs, runs fingers through her long hair, for once not pulled away from her face. “Benny,” she starts, and Kylo can already feel his teeth begin to ache with how hard his jaw is clenched. “We just want you to be happy. What kind of life do you-”

 

“Enough,” he growls. He’s expecting to get lectured on his poor life choices from his parents; he refuses to hear the same from his younger cousin. Rey snaps her mouth shut and while he doesn’t believe it’ll last, he takes the minor miracle he’s been given.

 

Does his family believe he had a breakdown at nineteen that landed him in the hospital with a mile long list of medications just to inconvenience them? He hadn’t gone to college with the intention of dropping out in his second year and spending the majority of the next decade bouncing from one low paying job to the next just to spite his family. He knows everyone can read his failure on him without even knowing his story, saw the curious glances he always got from his far younger classmates, the pitying looks the patrons at the restaurant gave him when they realized he wasn’t some young kid waiting tables for extra pocket change but a grown adult who should’ve had his life together by this point. 

 

He doesn’t need his family to judge his life; he does it enough himself.

 

“He’s really handsome,”  Rey says with a nod to the door Hux walked out of. “I don’t know how you did it, Benny, but you got lucky.”

 

Kylo chokes out a laugh. He knows he got lucky, knows that it’s almost inconceivable that Hux, who’s streak of vanity is wide enough that he never steps out with his hair not styled and his shoes not shined shouldn’t mind being seen with Kylo, who’s secretly so much kinder than he wants people to realize, Hux, who Kylo is sure has never put a fist through his own wall but when he saw the shoddily patched hole in Kylo’s didn’t say anything, didn’t ask questions Kylo wasn’t ready to answer,  just smiled softly and dragged a slow kiss over Kylo’s long since healed knuckles. 

 

In his softer, quieter moments, usually when the sun is just creeping through the curtains and Kylo is lying beside Hux, doing his best not to wake him, resisting the itch in his fingers to reach out and touch because Hux works too hard and drinks too much coffee and doesn’t sleep enough and if he can somehow find some peace lying beside Kylo he won’t disturb that, Kylo thinks maybe Hux is here because after all the bad in his life the universe has to level itself out, that there can’t be so much darkness without light to balance it and Hux, with his shining red hair and freckles scattered across his pale shoulders, seems to Kylo to outshine the sun itself sometimes.

 

His response must not be what Rey was expecting, because she shoots him an odd, calculating look, as if he’s just confirmed some suspicion of hers. Thankfully Hux walks back in before she can ask whatever thought Kylo can see forming. His hair is darker, dampened with water where he’s clearly run his fingers through it to push it back into order, and Kylo mourns the loss of the slightly rumpled look Hux had left the room with while secretly cherishing that Hux apparently only feels comfortable enough to let Kylo see him like that. His eyes look a little sharper, sleepiness warded away with a splash of cold water and there’s a single, glistening drop that’s slowly sliding past the open collar of Hux’s shirt. If they were back home Kylo would pull Hux to him and pop open every. single. button. to chase that tempting drip of moisture, made sweeter from Hux’s skin.

 

(Or, more likely, when he shakes himself from the fantasy, he’d wrap trembling hands into Hux’s shirt and try fruitlessly to work open the buttons with nerveless fingers until Hux would cup his hands with his own, help Kylo undress them both with a steadying touch. He hates it, but he still gets so nervous around Hux, gets caught up in his insecurities and convinces himself that Hux will get fed up and leave if he doesn’t get this right. He hasn’t been this unsure with a partner since he was thirteen and kissed Poe Dameron under the bleachers during lunch, a sloppy, open mouthed kiss. But while Poe laughed at his obvious inexperience and stopped being friends with him Hux seems to find his fumbling charming. Hux, after all, is not without his pride, and while it’s well earned he does enjoying having his ego stroked. Kylo only hopes he gets over his nerves before Hux grows weary of feeling like he’s bedding a blushing virgin every time they go to bed. At least Hux hasn’t had any complaints about what they do when they get in the bed, takes in the sight of Kylo spread out beneath him like an emperor gazing over his empire.)

 

Rey reluctantly steps out of the room first and they listen for a few seconds as she walks down the hall but her footsteps pause, clearly waiting to make sure Kylo actually follows. He lets Hux tug him after Rey and too soon they’re stepping into the Organa-Solo’s living room, crowded with people. For a brief moment he hopes there’s enough bodies in the room they’ll be able to blend in, slip from conversations and easy duck anyone he wants to avoid but Leia appears at his elbow and leads them over to a sleek, white sofa. It’s different from the furniture they had before but directly across from it, separated only by a coffee table, is Leia’s favorite chair and the couch may be different and Kylo may no longer be sixteen, but he remembers this setup all too well, being sat down and scolded, wilting under Leia’s words.

 

Despite everyone in the room there’s two seats available on the couch, no doubt Leia’s doing. The piece was obviously bought with Leia’s small frame in mind because it’s so low that when Kylo sits he feels like his knees are under his chin and he feels nothing but awkward and gawky, a reminder that he’s never fit into this home. Hux at least is faring better, legs stretched out before him in a way that somehow doesn’t translate as a rude sprawl. Kylo would try to imitate the position but he has none of the grace Hux does and knows it would come across as rude and sloppy. He’s spent enough of his life being told he doesn’t fit into the space Leia has tried to carve out for him, he’s not eager to start again, so it’s simpler to sit in an uncomfortable position and grit his teeth so long as it’s only him and Hux looks perfectly comfortable. 

 

He’s surprised, although he really shouldn’t be, when instead of the accumulated list of all the ways he’s failed to be her perfect son, Leia directs her attention to Hux. “Hux, wasn’t it?” She asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer before she keeps talking. “What do you do for a living?”

 

“I’m an engineer. It’s boring,” he offers with a brushing wave of his hand even though Kylo knows its not. Hux can spend hours talking about his work, eyes alive while he almost vibrates with energy. Most of it Kylo doesn’t understand but he loves listening to Hux talk about it, sharing in it even if it’s only to act as a sounding board Hux can talk ideas at until he stumbles upon a solution, Kylo’s only contributions encouraging nods and hums. Tucked away in a drawer, beneath the framed photo of his grandfather in his uniform, the only reminder of the man he never met, are a pile of napkins Hux had scribbled equations on one night at dinner. It had been impulse to tuck them into his pocket when they were leaving and Hux doesn’t even know Kylo kept them.

 

“Hmm,” Leia hums, in what might be disapproval or might just be simple boredom. She studies Hux but Kylo knows she isn’t actually judging Hux, she’s judging Kylo based off of Hux, trying to figure out how Hux reflects on Kylo and by extension herself. Hux is holding himself military straight, his shoulders a steady line that look ready to bear the weight of command, and Kylo can almost read the thoughts flicking across Leia’s mind-  _ engineer, good job, respectable, dating my son, they’d look great standing next to each other in a campaign shot.  _ “How did you meet?.”

 

Hux’s shoulders relax, just a little, as much as they ever do except for when he’s tired, slumped over on Kylo’s couch with his head on Kylo’s shoulder, a telltale sign that he was raised by a military man, that he had the expectation on service pushed on him from a very early age. How different Hux’s life would’ve been if he had caved to his father’s wishes. It’s no wonder they understand each other so well, both nothing like what their parents wanted, although Kylo can never understand how anyone could be disappointed in Hux.

 

Hux lets out a quiet chuckle, as if the story is charming, something he looks forward to telling to people for many years to come, the adorable meet cute that led them together instead of the embarrassment it is, a highlight of Kylo’s awkwardness with people and Hux’s acerbic tongue. “We met at Kylo’s work,” he says.

 

“This would be the serving job?” She asks, derision in her words and a displeased twist to her lips as though Kylo’s terrible job is somehow an insult to her.

 

He resists the urge to sigh, to remind her that his life may not be perfect and it’s taken him longer than either of them would like for him to start getting it put back together, but he is working on it.

 

Instead, he takes a deep breath, and lets it out to a mental count of ten, just like he learned all those summers ago at Luke’s, before they all realized that breathing exercise and meditation and nature weren’t going to fix him. “Yes, Leia. The restaurant.”

 

His hands are on his knees, fingers curling into the worn fabric of his jeans until the warmth of Hux’s hand settle over his, squeezes just once, then stays there as Hux’s picks up the thread. “I’d been set up on a date and Kylo was our server.” Hux slips him a soft smile, his head twisted just so that Kylo knows it’s all for him. “He paid us way more attention than any other table and I yelled at him because I thought he was flirting with my date.”

 

“You hated him!” Kylo cuts in, determined to defend himself. Like this, arguing with Hux, cutting each other off and interrupting good naturedly, it’s easy to ignore the weight of Leia’s disapproving gaze, ignore the press of too many bodies all around him and pretend it’s just the two of them, bantering over dinner with the promise that no matter what they’re arguing about there’s no venom in their words, no hurt feelings, just heated kiss waiting when one of them finally gets tired of listening and breaks. 

 

“Regardless, it’s the principle of the thing,” Hux sniffs. “It’s rude to interrupt someone on a date.”

 

“i’m sorry, do you want me to take it back?” Kylo teases, knocking his knee against Hux’s.

 

“No,” Hux explains, words teasig. “I don’t regret what happened, I just want it noted that you were  _ rude. _ ”

 

Their banter is cut off by Leia, unwilling to be ignored any longer. “If Ben was interested in your date how did you two end up together?” 

 

Kylo’s good mood disappears instantly, stolen away with the reminder that it isn’t just Hux and himself, his every word and action being scrutinized, and by the expression on Leia’s face she’s finding him lacking, just as she always has. He should be used to it, and maybe if Hux weren’t here it wouldn’t bother him so much, but now he knows what it’s like to have someone who doesn’t look down on him, he’s used to not having to think through every single action, knowing it will only be turned against him later and to suddenly be back with people who are only waiting for his latest screw up has left him shaken, steadied only by Hux’s solid presence.

 

He opens his mouth to respond but the words have gone dry and when he tries to take a breath his throat feels swollen, suddenly panicked, and why now? He’s been doing so well, things haven’t been great but they haven’t been  _ bad,  _ why this question of all the stupid things to get upset over? He can’t look at Leia, can’t face the expression he knows she’ll be wearing as soon as she realizes what’s going on, a mix of disappointment that her grown son still can’t get a grip on himself and satisfaction that every bad thing she ever told him he’d grow up to be if he didn’t listen to her came true.

 

He’s saved by the smooth timbre of Hux’s voice cutting through the fog that’s suddenly taken over his mind. “Well, the thing is, after I yelled at him, Kylo told me he wasn’t trying to flirt with my date.”

 

“I was trying to flirt with you,” he says, picking up the thread of the conversation, the lull of Hux’s voice easing his mind until he doesn’t feel like he has to go hide himself away anymore. “I still can’t believe you didn’t realize I was trying to hit on you.”

 

It’s an easy opening, a script they can follow even as they write it, something to help get Kylo back on an even keel. But before Hux can say his part  _ Well, I guess I can be a bit oblivious _ , they’re interrupted by a heavy, warm hand landing on Kylo’s shoulder from over the back of the couch. He jumps at the contact, shoulder bashing into Hux with so much force Hux coughs out a breath.

 

“That sounds like our Benny,” a warm voice says without even an apology. Kylo looks up into the handsome, smiling face of Poe Dameron, his hand still on Kylo’s shoulder despite him trying to shrug it off. “Just as bad at flirting as you were in high school.”

 

“Poe!” Leia greets brightly, with more warmth in her voice than she’s had the entire time she’s been talking to Kylo and Hux. She rises out of her chair and Poe’s hand finally leaves its place on Kylo’s shoulder as he walks around to hug her. 

 

While Poe and Leia are busy trading it’s-good-to-see-you’s Hux tugs on Kylo’s hand and pulls him up, gives a silent nod to the door. Leis’a too busy greeting Poe to notice them sneaking by and soon they’re lost in the throng of bodies, knocked around by people Kylo once knew but are now strangers stumbling from too much wine. “Where are we going?’ 

 

“I need a cigarette.”

 

“You don’t smoke,” Kylo says, puzzled. Hux is too fastidious to walk around reeking of smoke and months ago, on an unusually sunny fall day they had walked around a park together, hand in hand, until a coughing fit had forced Hux to sit down with his back propped against a tree and knees drawn up while his entire body shook with his coughs and he had fought to take reedy, shallow breaths. Kylo hovered around helplessly, worried and trying his best to stay calm with his phone in hand, ready to call someone until Hux had finally been able to breathe again. Hux had flushed and looked away while he explained in a voice gone raw with coughing that he had been a sickly child, with asthma gone untreated for far too long because his father had thought it was nothing but an excuse, a weakness to be overcome. He had mostly grown out of it and Kylo knew his long, toned legs were hard won from early morning runs, but occasionally, Hux said, with a disdain in his voice that Kylo knew was all Hux’s father’s, his allergies would cause it act up and it would be like he was a skinny twelve year old, trying not to pass out in gym class while he couldn’t get enough air.

 

“I don’t,” Hux agrees. “But no one else knows that.”

 

“Oh,” is all Kylo has to say, and then they’re standing in the mostly empty hallway, eyeing the front door and weighing the cost of escape against facing the wintery air with no coats until Kylo tugs on Hux’s hand, desperate to get out now that they’re so close. “C’mon, I’ll keep you warm,” he insists, and tosses Hux a grin that’s a little too shaky to be rakish, still unsettled by their encounter with Poe and his easy affection with Leia.

 

They settle on the stairs side by side, Hux pressed as close as possible, and when a shiver runs through him Kylo wraps an arm around him and pulls him even closer. He sighs when Hux turns and presses a kiss to his temple. 

 

They don’t say anything, just sit in silence, content to just be, until their fingers go stiff and numb and Hux’s nose is almost as red as his hair before they tiptoe back inside, past the noise of all the guests. Once the door to the bedroom is safely closed behind them Hux takes Kylo’s face in his hands and kisses him, sweet and deep, for long minutes, whispering “I'm here, I'm here,” until the noise drifting in from downstairs fades into nothingness. 

 

____

 

Dawn brings with it weak winter light, a soft warmth that creeps across his chest where the blankets have pooled around his waist and heat along his back, Hux tucked tight against him, nose squished against the nape of Kylo's neck. Kylo closes his eyes and basks in the closeness, the arm tight around his waist not a cage but a reminder.

 

He tries to slip out of Hux's hold without waking him but Hux makes a noise of protest and tugs him back with the arm he refuses to loosen. “Stay,” he slurs, and wiggles even closer. His limp cock presses against the meat of Kylo's thigh and the touch of it, hot even through their thin pants, heats his blood and he rocks back into the clutch of Hux's arms, willing to be persuaded to linger. 

 

Kylo grinds his hips back, feels Hux’s cock start to swell. It’d be nothing to shimmy his pants down, for Hux to slip between his thighs and stroke himself off. The thought of Hux clinging to him, the heave of his chest against Kylo’s back, the sweet sounds Hux would gasp against him, makes heat coil low in his belly, his own dick stiffening, and Hux drags a wet, open mouthed kiss across the breadth of Kylo’s shoulders, his hips shifting to fit more snugly against Kylo’s.

 

Hux’s fingers trip a path down his stomach and the very tips of them just are sliding under the waist when a floorboard creaks right outside the door followed by the fall of footsteps down the hall. Hux sighs, almost a laugh, and pulls his hand back while Kylo groans against his pillow in frustration. “My family ruins everything,” he complains, half overly dramatic in the hopes Hux will play along and comfort him and half skirting around a painful truth. 

 

Hux does laugh now, and pats Kylo’s stomach before falling away onto his back, his hand trailing a broad, sweeping path over the stretch of Kylo’s spine. Kylo soaks up the tender attention for a few minutes, absorbs Hux’s affection to help reinforce his careful defenses, the ones he’s spent years building and fortifying but that he knows his family will be able to tear down with nothing but simple words and pointed looks. 

 

He turns to face Hux and his breath catches. Hux, for all that most of his time is spent indoors, the majority of his work day dedicated to squinting at the blue light of a computer until his eyes are red, has always worn sunlight well. The light trickling in through Leia’s tasteful gauzy curtains turn his eyes a deep sea green, the freckles smattering his nose and cheeks all the more beautiful for being barely there and Hux’s hair looks like burning copper, fanned out on the navy pillowcase.

 

“I still can’t believe I found you,” he breathes out, and hesitates with his fingers right above the line of Hux’s jaw, because if Hux is anything it’s a work of art and Kylo knows he doesn’t deserve to touch. But Hux takes the decision away and turns his face into Kylo’s waiting palm, morning stubble rasping against his hand. He wishes Hux would scrape him raw all over, nuzzle along his thighs and rub his neck red and leave chafed trails all down his chest, a reminder he could wear all day, tuck away under the layers of his clothes that Hux is here, with him.

 

He has to settle for cupping Hux’s face in his hands and leaning down for a kiss, their lips catching and dragging as Hux curls his hands around the curve of Kylo’s shoulders, warming him down to the bone. They trade warm, syrupy kisses, happy to ignore the sounds of the house slowly waking, feet flitting down the steps and laughter carried up from the kitchen with the smell of coffee.  They ignore the sound of feet ascending the stairs, now unbothered by the reminder that Kylo’s family is just outside the door, but when the footsteps pause, right outside, for just long enough for whoever’s on the other side to decide to not wake them quite yet, before continuing on, Hux slides his mouth away from Kylo’s, drags his lips over his jaw and neck and mouths a soft, damp kiss right at the curve of Kylo’s jaw that sends sparks down his spine and he has to bite his lip to stifle his moan. 

 

“We should stop,” Hux says, the humid pant of his breath a contrast to his sensible thought as his lips catch on Kylo’s stubble. His hips twist up against Kylo as he drags his fingers down Kylo’s back and lets out a ragged breath.

 

The sight of Hux with his lips swollen from smeared kisses and his hair awry makes Kylo dizzy with want and it’s only the press of Hux’s hand against his chest, fingers splayed across his racing heart, that keeps him from leaning down to kiss Hux again. It would be easy to soak up the sting of rejection, the cut of Hux pushing him away, but Hux’s hand lingers even as Kylo rolls off of him, skimming down his ribs and over his hips before finally falling away, and he lets himself believe that Hux doesn’t want to stop this any more than he does.

 

Once they’ve ended their kisses the smell of coffee is too tempting to resist, even if it does mean facing Kylo’s family. They take turns slipping into the bathroom, each dressing while the other is out of the room with the unspoken understanding that even with family just a floor away the sight of bare skin might be too much of a temptation.

 

When they finally make it downstairs Leia’s small kitchen table is crowded with people and a silence that tells Kylo they were being talked about before they came in, all of them still in rumpled pajamas, except for Leia, her smart slacks and tunic perfectly pressed despite the early hour. “Good morning,” he mutters, and Hux gives a short nod before Kylo turns to the cabinets and digs out two mugs. The fine porcelain is dwarfed by his hands and for an absurd moment he wonders if this is a test, a way to trick him into breaking something delicate so everyone can remind him that he can’t be trusted to handle anything with care. But before he can talk himself into putting the mug back and forgoing coffee Hux’s hand is on his, taking the cup and turning to the coffee maker, and the sight of their skin brushing reminds him that whatever else anyone thinks, he’d never break Hux, the most precious of all things. 

 

Hux pours them both coffee, the rich aroma permeating the air between them, and adds too much milk to Kylo’s and a splash to his own before turning to replace the carafe in the maker, shoulder bumping against Kylo’s in a move that looks accidental but he knows must be intentional because Hux is far too aware of himself for it not to be.

 

There’s no seats left at the table so instead they lean against the counter. They’re a few sips into their coffee, the silence hanging heavy and waiting, when Han clears his throat and shifts in his chair with enough force for it to scrape against the ground, a much needed warning that the interrogation is coming.

 

“Missed you last night, Kid,” he says in his familiar, gruff voice, the one Kylo knows well from  his childhood, the one that means he argued with Leia about who was going to bring up the long list of Kylo’s shortcomings, even if Leia was always the one to have the final say. “I heard you were around but didn’t get to see you.” The accusation is there, even if it was unsaid, that reminder that Kylo is a failure as a son and a disappointment, unable to even do something as simple as make an appearance and hug his dad.

 

“My fault,” Hux offers around a hasty swallow of coffee. “I wasn’t feeling well and Kylo didn’t want to leave me alone.” He smiles a disarming smile, one that pairs perfectly with the little, one shouldered shrug he gives. It’s a perfect act, one so flawlessly executed not a single person in the room other than the two of them realizes it’s a lie. It makes Hux look young, and it must be because that was when he perfected it, performed it so frequently, the perfect, deferential child, apologizing for something that wasn’t his fault, not really; an attempt to appease to avoid punishment, and Kylo’s stomach tightens that his inadequacies have put Hux in this position, that his being a disappointment to his family is making Hux revert to behaviors he learned to survive a childhood with his father to save Kylo from a scolding.

 

He may not have much to offer, but that’s not the sort of life he wants for Hux.

 

“Glad you’re feeling better,” Rey says with a bright smile, Hux’s murmured thank you lost as she directs her attention to Kylo. “Finn and Poe were going to come over this afternoon and help me decorate cookies. You don’t have any other plans, do you?” The words are spoken like a question but they all know it’s a trap, that he couldn’t possibly have any excuse to avoid this. He’s been so concerned about what his family will have to say that he hadn’t taken time to consider this possibility, being stuck in a room with Rey, who’s being trained by Han to take over his garage, listening to Poe’s tales of his successful career as a pilot and Finn’s slowly growing reputations as Leia’s protege. 

 

“I’ll pass. Thanks,”

 

“You got a better invitation?” She challenges, not backing down.

 

“Yes,” Hux cuts in, wrapping a hand on around Kylo’s wrist, his thumb pressing steadily against Kylo’s pulse, nail biting gently into the rice paper thin skin laid across pale blue veins. “Kylo promised to take me around the town. I have a special love of architecture, and we drove past some interesting buildings on the way in.” 

 

Rey’s face twists. “And that’ll take all day?”

 

“Rey,” Han scolds, voice sharp, and Kylo blinks in surprise at his unlikely ally and Rey picks her mug up, scowl not quite hidden by the rim of her mug. “You kids have fun,” he says, and stands up, spoon clicking against his cup as he carries it over to the sink. He heads for the back door, out to his garage to tinker until Leia makes him go change for dinner, but pauses in front of Kylo. He claps a hand to Kylo’s shoulder with such strength that coffee almost sloshes out of his mug. “It’s good to see you home, Kid,” he says, squeezing. “You look happy,” Han continues, eyes flicking to Hux before coming back to meet Kylo’s, gaze full of warmth.

 

Kylo nods, not quite able to say the words to agree. It feels too intimate, to admit in a room filled with people he hasn’t spoken to in years that Hux makes him happy, makes everyday better, fills Kylo’s drafty apartment with warmth and light and makes that ache in his chest, the one he can never quite remember not having, the one that comes from something missing, fade away. He’s sure everyone can see how happy Hux makes him, even if they don’t quite understand that while the rest of his life might not be what they think it should he has this to smile about, but actually speaking the words seem like too much, something he isn’t quite ready to admit out loud, not when he chokes every time he tries to tell Hux how much he means. 

 

Han, always the best at communicating without actually having to say the words, the one who would go sit outside on the porch steps in silence while Kylo worked himself out of his anger because they all knew Leia would just talk to him in that superior tone of voice that worked with politicians but not her son, doesn’t say anything else. He studies Kylo for a moment longer, nods at whatever he finds. He casts a warning look at everyone at the table and Kylo watches in confusion as most of them shift and look away in guilt before Han makes his exit, the door creaking closed behind him.

 

Han’s departure seems to be a signal for everyone to scatter and go start their day, Rey slinks out of the room with a cranky expression shot toward Kylo while Hux refills his mug.

 

“You boys have fun,” Leia calls as they leave to go back upstairs, but there’s something suspicious in her voice, some accusation Kylo just can’t decipher, so he offers her a small thanks and follows Hux back to their room.

 

“Not that I don’t appreciate the rescue, but looking at old buildings? That’s really the best you got?” He teases, and, feeling bold, flush with the knowledge that Hux is here still, hasn’t run screaming, he wraps his arms around Hux and pulls him tight against his chest. He breathes in deep, savors the light scent of Hux’s hair, the strands coated in just enough product to push it off his face instead of the usual severe combing it gets when Hux has to go into the office. Everything about the persona Hux presents at work is razor sharp and perfectly put together, from his tailored blazers to his always clean shaven jaw and his slicked back hair. He understands why, Hux is so young to be in such a position, outranking the older members of his team of engineers even though he’s decades younger, and he’s had to fight for every bit of their respect. And while the sight of Hux put together, with a hard set to his jaw the perfect complement to his fierce look never fails to spark heat in Kylo he likes Hux best like this, with his hair soft and loose and a patch of stubble just barely dusting his jaw, a cashmere sweater that holds the heat of Hux’s skin stretched across his shoulders and highlighting the lean strength of his body. 

 

“I like old buildings,”Hux argues, but he leans back into Kylo’s hold and tilts his head so he can nuzzle right below his ear, where the warm scent of skin is strongest. “I’ve always liked architecture.” This close Kylo can see the muscles and tendons flex as Hux swallows, the minute shift as he rebalances his weight.

 

“You do? I didn’t know that.”

 

“Yeah,” Hux says, and the words is clearly supposed to sound like casual agreement but there’s the smallest hitch in it. Hux doesn’t have much to be ashamed of, no glaring flaws he has to try to hide and live in fear of having them discovered, not like Kylo, who’s trying to get his life together, back in school after almost a decade of bouncing between low paying jobs, but there have been moments when he’s confessed things, small things, but so important because they make Hux who he is, and it’s always said in this same tone, a careful, steady tone, with no waver only because Hux fights so hard to keep it out. 

 

He loosens his hold, wants to give Hux room to get away, to retreat if needed, but Hux doesn’t try to run, instead brings a hand up to cover where Kylo’s are holding him. “Oh?”

 

“I, well, I wanted to be an architect. When I was younger.” Kylo hugs him closer but doesn’t say anything, just like Hux did for him last night. He feels almost guilty, taking delight in the fact that Hux trusts him when he should be focusing on Hux instead, but it’s hard to feel anything but satisfaction and warmth when Hux is in his arms, held tight and safe. Kylo knows he can’t protect Hux from the world, knows Hux wouldn’t want him to even if he could, but if nothing else he can return the favor Hux gives him so frequently of being a safe haven. Hux sighs, body melting back against Kylo, and he thinks maybe Hux is done, that he has nothing more to say and buries his face in Hux’s hair, taking full advantage of the singular inch of height he has on Hux, but after a long pause he continues. “My father discouraged it. Said I lacked the creativity necessary for such a thing. He wanted me to follow him into the service, but I refused. Engineering was our compromise.”

 

There’s not much he can say, no reassurances he can offer that will undo years of Hux’s father telling him he wasn’t good enough. He has the matching scars, wears them himself and knows how heavy a burden to carry they can be, can recall with perfect clarity the look on Han’s face when he realized Kylo inherited none of his mechanical wizardry and that he’d have to look elsewhere for someone to inherit his garage. Instead, he presses a long kiss to Hux’s jaw, holds him just a little tighter before letting go.

  
“C’mon. Let’s go look at old buildings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many, many thanks to all of you wonderful people who left kudos or comments on the first part You're giving me so much life! Thank you!
> 
> Come hang out on Tumblr, where I will continue to make Kylo Ren a soft boy who needs hugs, despite anything TLJ may have tried to tell us otherwise. 
> 
> cut-off-the-grain.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are loves! The end!
> 
> Thank you for taking this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> A very, very special thanks to obsession-and-dreams/frapandfurious and An-r-1, both of whom are complete sweethearts who have listened to me complain about this story and offered so much encouragement. This wouldn't exist without these two wonderful people.
> 
> A quick warning, there is a homophobic slur used. It is just once, and it's mentioned as something that happened in the past, but I felt it better to give a heads up.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hux, he shouldn’t be surprised to find out, is as knowledgeable about this as he is about most things.

 

They stand side by side, fingers loosley caught together, and walk down the quiet main street of the little town Han and Leia moved to when Kylo was born, pausing to look old brick buildings while Hux prattles off words like ‘mid-century’ and ‘colonial’ that make no sense to Kylo but he finds himself nodding along anyway, content just to listen even if the words sound like no more than gibberish to him. They pause in front of a stone building with heavy wood front doors that has been a school house and a police station and who knows what else in its history since it was built in the tiny town.

 

“This is probably the oldest building here,” Kylo says while Hux takes a long draw from his travel mug. “Sorry there’s not much more I can show you. I wish we had something worthwhile,” he apologizes, disappointed that even in this, in simple sightseeing, he comes up lacking.

 

“Hey, don’t” Hux scolds gently, tugging on their joined hands at Kylo’s self-deprecating tone. “Just because some people may not see any value doesn’t mean something isn’t worth taking a second glance at, that it isn’t interesting. Isn’t important. Isn’t beautiful,” Hux continues, voice dipping low and his attention isn’t on the building, it’s on Kylo.  

 

He swallows. “You may be the only one who thinks there’s anything worth taking a second look at.” Hux crouches to set his cup on the ground and when he rises his fingers are warm from being wrapped around his mug when they brush an errant curl away from Kylo’s face.

 

“Do you know why I wanted to be an architect? Because they have to be able to look at something and see potential. Maybe my father was right and I would’ve been terrible at it, but I like to think I’m smart enough to know when I’m looking at something worthwhile.”

 

Hatred for Hux’s father fills Kylo for a moment, a burning desire to tell the man that he was wrong, because if Hux can look at Kylo and see something worthwhile it’s a crime to deny the world whatever Hux would’ve built. Whatever it was, Kylo knows it would’ve been a triumph. But the hatred burns hot and fast because, selfishly, he can’t regret that Hux didn’t take that path for long. It brought him here, with Kylo, standing on a cold, deserted street. The kiss Hux pulls him into is soft and sweet, cold lips barely brushing, but it leaves them both trembling anyway.

 

The chilly wind stings his lips when they part and he stares at Hux for a long moment, debating. Coming home has always felt like he’s being stripped bare, all his walls and compartments torn down so that he’s left as nothing but a glorified mess, a pile of insecurities and failures that he can’t hide, and if Hux weren’t here the idea of baring any more of himself would feel torturous, but Hux is here, he wouldn’t be standing here considering this if Hux weren’t.

 

“Maybe,” he begins, and has to wet his chapped lips when the words don’t seem to want to come out. “Maybe there is one building around here worth seeing.” His hands flutter uselessly, almost resting on Hux’s shoulders, then his hips, before just waving in the air in an attempt to keep from twisting them together. “It’s not, like you said, not anything most people would consider important. But, I like it, it’s important to me," he trails of lamely, tries to shrug.

 

Hux catches Kylo’s hands, sandwiches them between his own slimmer ones, and the sight should be ridiculous, Hux’s elegant hands cupped around Kylo’s larger ones, but it’s not. Hux’s fingers are long and gentle as they stroke along the back of Kylo’s hands. He’s always felt oversized, as if he was taking up more than his share of space and has spent much of his life trying to shrink himself, to fit into roles that weren’t shaped for him, sloping his shoulders and stuffing his hands into his pockets whenever possible, but while the contrast of Hux’s hands should by all rights only make him feel too big it feels nothing but perfect, like Kylo is exactly who he’s supposed to be.

 

“I’d like that,” Hux tells him, and squeezes tight before raising one of Kylo’s hands to kiss the back, lips trailing over his knuckles, breath damp and humid, the sight of pink lips over tanned skin making his heart pound.

 

When Hux finally lowers their hands he doesn’t let go, just fits his hand into Kylo’s and lets himself be led back to the warmth of the car.

 

“I probably should’ve warned you that it’s a bit of a drive,” Kylo says twenty minutes in, his leg bouncing up and down in anticipation and nerves. “We can, if you want, we could turn back,” he offers, twisting his fingers in the stretched out hem of his once black now grey sweatshirt.

 

“I have nothing more important to do today,” Hux says with a shrug, a perfectly genuine nonchalance in his voice that makes Kylo’s shoulders relax as he draws in a deep breath. He should’ve warned Hux about the near hour drive it would take, out past the city and on a winding state route that’s almost deserted because of the holiday. There’s not much to look at, just expanses of leafless trees and the occasional small house set back from the road.

 

They don’t say much, just let the silence stretch out between them as the miles stretch on before them, and when Kylo finally has to point out the sudden turn creeping up on them his voice cracks, heavy with disuse and the emotions settling deep in his chest, when he says, “Turn right here.”

 

Hux does as directed, the car bouncing over the dirt driveway, until the crumbling, small house comes into view and they park. Kylo winces when he climbs out and his shoes sink into mud. He glances at Hux’s once pristine car and sees the mud splattered along it, marring the gleaming black, but Hux doesn’t seem bothered, even as his shiny dress shoes squelch in the cold November mud,  walking toward the porch of the clearly abandoned building. He tests his weight on a squeaky stair, deems it stable enough, and climbs the three stairs with a slow curiosity, taking in the peeling paint and the weathered wood, the windows broken by weather or local youth.

 

Hux glances back at him when he reaches the top of the steps and the questions in Hux’s expression propel him forward. Each step brings with it a flood of memories, of warm summer days spent in the only place he could feel like he really belonged, of being led back to Han’s car despite crying to stay, of the last time, ten years ago, when he set foot on this very same porch, when the flower pots had been whole and filled with blooming, living things, instead of the withered, twisted remnants of dead flowers they now contain.

 

“Grandma’s parents didn’t want her to marry Anakin,” he begins as they walk the length of the decaying porch. “Didn’t matter that he was a war hero. She was young, and beautiful, and rich, and he was a disabled vet with PTSD.” He swallows and leans against the railing, looking over the acres of land. “But she loved him, so she married him anyway.”

 

Hux doesn’t say anything but he does lean against the railing beside Kylo, his arms crossed on the old wood and their shoulders touching. It gives him the strength to say words he’s never quite know how to put together. “They weren’t always happy, but they were always in love. They got through the hard times, somehow. Padme was strong enough to see the good in him even when he was consumed with hatred for everything. It always, it always gave me hope. That maybe someday I could have that, too.” That someone could find something in him worth loving, just as Padme had seen in Anakin, even though no one had ever been able to.

 

Hux whispers his name and brings a hand up to brush moisture off of his face. He realizes he’s crying and tries to turn away, to hide, because Hux has already seen too much of the mess he is, but Hux catches an arm around his shoulder and pulls him tight, lets Kylo shudder against him and brushes fingers through his hair, his lean body sturdy enough to absorb the shaking of Kylo’s frame and hold him steady.

 

When he’s finally exhausted himself his face is crusted with snot and he feels a gross mess, keeps trying to duck his head and hide beneath the fall of his hair as he pulls away. “Sorry,” he chokes out, and scrubs a hand over his face. “It’s been a long couple of days,” he says lamely, as if that’s any excuse for his embarrassing outburst. He glances up from the curtain of his hair, unable to face whatever look of mocking he knows Hux will be wearing full on, but Hux’s eyes are nothing but kind, a glimmer in the corner of them as if he may cry for Kylo himself, although it’s an absurd notion, and as soon as Hux blinks that shimmer is gone, obviously nothing more than a figment of Kylo’s endlessly hopeful imagination.  

 

“Let’s go home,” Hux offers softly, a hand squeezing Kylo’s arm. Part of him wants to protest, to tell Hux that he has felt more at home in these last few minutes, held tight in Hux’s arms while he sobbed the sorrow of a life misspent into Hux’s neck, than he ever has in the house he was raised in, but his pride can’t take anymore embarrassing outbursts. So he nods, and they walk side by side back to the car, shoulders jostling the entire way, and by the time he pulls open the door and slides into the waiting warmth the burning behind his eyes has subsided to nothing but a vague ache. He waits until Hux settles, his seatbelt sliding home with a sharp _click_ before reaching over and laying a grounding hand on Hux’s leg.

 

It’s not even evening, the sun still bright and high in the sky, but at some point his eyes slip closed, lulled to sleep by the road under the wheels and the feeling on Hux’s fingers laced with his.  

 

____

 

Hux shakes him awake with a nudge to his shoulder and a whispered “We’re here.”

 

Kylo blinks groggily, shakes his still foggy feeling head and steps out into the biting cold wind, lets the nip of wind wake him fully. It starting snowing at some point, and the pinpricks of coldness when snowflakes land on him drag any lingering sleep away.  They can smell cooking food before they’re at the door, the labor of Leia’s time in the kitchen, probably spent chasing Han and Luke and Rey off as much as actually cooking, wafting to them.

 

He offers Hux a tight smile, hopeful that Hux will know his reluctance has nothing to do with him and everything to do with his family, and tries the door, finding it unlocked and pushing it open.

 

It feels like stepping back into his childhood, not because of the hallway which still resembles what he grew up with in it’s generic, upper class, refined taste, but because of the raised voices coming from the kitchen.

 

“-drop it!”

 

“What are we supposed to do, Han? Say nothing?” Leia retorts in her calm, authoritative voice, the one that has won her elections and left Han seething in his garage more times that Kylo can count.

 

“Yes. I miss my kid, Leia. If this-”

 

Whatever else Han was going to say is cut off by the slamming of the door behind Kylo announcing their presence as Hux closes it intentionally with too much force and a mouthed “Sorry,” to him. A stillness overtakes the house for a moment as the slamming of the door echoes, and then Rey slides into the hallway from the kitchen, socked feet skidding on the polished hardwood, her eyes wide.

 

“Ben!” She exclaims, too loud to be innocent, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them, Kylo stalled with his coat half off and Hux with his hand still of the doorknob. “We weren’t sure when to expect you back.”

 

“We weren’t sure when we’d be back,” Hux says, warmth in his voice without a glance back at the door he just slammed shut to disrupt a conversation. “Any chance there’s still coffee?”

 

“Oh, uhh, yeah. Yeah, there is,” she stumbles out, clearly trying to work out how much they just heard and if she should beg forgiveness or pretend they heard nothing. Her shoulders straighten as she obviously settles on the second, a tentative and unconvincing smile on her face as she turns to lead the way back into the kitchen.

 

Kylo wonders if he’ll ever be able to walk into a room of this house without all eyes turning to him while everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats. He doesn’t miss that Poe is sitting at the favored spot of Leia’s right hand, the cramped kitchen table scattered in drying cookies. Hux is unbothered by the tenseness in the room, pouring coffee into his mug and pressing it into Kylo’s hand. He reflexibly takes it and his fingers tingle with the sudden heat.

 

Hux stands beside him, not touching but almost close enough to, and he’s pathetically grateful for the show of support. There are times it seems his whole life has been spent fighting- with his parents, his teachers, against the weight of expectations placed on him without his input- and it makes him feel small in the best way to have someone standing with him, as if for once he doesn’t have to stand as tall and strong as he can to face the fact of his disappointment.

 

“It smells wonderful in here,” Hux comments, breaking the building wall of silence, and everyone takes a sigh at the obvious olive branch. It would be comical if he weren’t so obviously the previous topic of discussion, more on display than the centerpiece of Leia’s decorated dining room table even when he’s not in the room.

 

“Thank you,” Leia accepts graciously. “It’ll be served a six, but the guests should start arriving soon. I’m sure you two want to clean up,” she suggests with an exaggerated glance at their mud caked shoes. “It appears my son is a bad influence on you, Mr. Hux, dragging you behind him into the mud.”

 

“On the contrary,” Hux says, a cold smile on his lips. “I’m lucky Kylo thinks I’m worth the trouble of dragging along,” and for the first time Kylo can remember Leia has no comeback, no clever little dig. Clearly Hux missed his true calling in politics.

 

There doesn’t seem to be much left to say and Leia excuses herself to check on her turkey, shooing everyone out of the room. They slip upstairs before anyone can corner them, Kylo at least desperate to get away from whatever oddness has seemed to dog their every move in this house.

 

He sits on the bed with a heavy sigh, hands in his hair, while Hux perches himself at the desk tucked in the corner and busies himself with cleaning the dirt from his shoes, a little vee of concentration etched between his eyes. “They’re only going to be worse at dinner. If you wanted to skip it-” he starts, words carefully measure to mask how much the thought of going back downstairs, greeting relatives and sitting in Leia’s grand, uncomfortable dining room chairs without Hux there makes him feel. But this is his problem, not Hux’s. He’s already asked too much, allowed Hux to offer him too much, he knows he shouldn’t be greedy.

 

“You think I can’t handle a few rude relatives?” Hux challenges, glancing up from his task. “My father was a military man, through and through. And his wife had very specific ideas about how children should behave. I spent my life sitting through uncomfortable dinners. Your family won’t be the ones to break me.”

 

“But you shouldn’t- I don’t want- it’s not fair to,” he starts and stops, frustrated. Words were never his strong suit, he always preferred to express himself in broken family heirlooms and holes in plaster, but he needs them now, needs to explain to Hux that Kylo never wants to put him back in his miserable childhood. “You deserve better,” he finally manages to say, the words weak and watery, not the forceful defense Hux deserves. He lays his hands in his lap, stares helplessly at them.

 

Hux says nothing.

 

He hears rustling as Hux stands from the chair, the thud of shoes on the ground and squeezes his eyes shut. So that’s that then. He finally got through, finally convinced Hux that he should have better. Better than a Thanksgiving spent with sweetly concealed vicious words, better than the curious stares he knows they’ll get, better than all of this. Better than Kylo.

 

He startles at the shift in the mattress as Hux sits beside him, blinks open his eyes and stares as Hux’s hand comes to cover his. “You deserve better, too.”

 

“No,” he argues with a shake of his head. “I deserve it all. Not like it isn’t all true.” He offers Hux a wilted smile. It is all true, a troubled youth and wasted opportunities and a listless life as an adult he’s just now starting to pull into some semblance of order. It’s all true, everything his family hints and tiptoes around but never outright accuse him of. If only it wouldn’t be too much to ask that they attempt to understand that he’s trying.

 

When he finds the courage to look at Hux his face is crumpled in sorrow. “Kylo,” he whispers, twisting their fingers together. “ _It’s not. You don’t._ Maybe it’s true, but that’s not the whole of it. If all they can see when they look at you is the bad then _they’re the ones failing you._ Not the other way around.” Hux’s hand tightens in his, slender fingers stronger than steel. “I wish, I just wish-” but whatever Hux is going to say is cut off by obnoxious banging on the door and a wailed _“Bennnyyy!”_ Shouted in Poe’s voice at a level that makes them both cringe.

 

“C’mon Benny, open up. You can’t keep that boy hidden away forever.” The face Hux pulls at being called a boy makes Kylo laugh, a sad, choked sounding thing, but Hux smiles at it and bumps their shoulders as Kylo regretfully stands up and goes to open the door.

 

Poe Dameron is still infuriatingly handsome, leaning against the door frame with a looseness to his shoulders as if there’s no doubt he belongs here, as if he never had even a moment’s hesitation about intruding on something he has no right being a part of. 

 

“Benny,” he greets, beaming, and ducks under the arm Kylo has braced on the door and into the room with a warm pat on Kylo’s shoulders. “You’re Hux then, Ben’s boy.”

 

Hux offers a tight smile and ignores the hand held out to him long enough it becomes uncomfortable and Poe drops it with a faltered movement. “Yes,” he finally answers, “I’m Kylo’s partner.” It’s silly, but the way Hux weights the word, _partner_ , as if he and Kylo are equals, fills his chest with a soft, glowing warmth, a gentle reminder he’ll be able to think about when the words of his family try to crawl beneath his skin.

 

Poe shuffle his feet and hesitates for long seconds, reeling from someone not being taken in by his charm for once. “People are arriving,” he says, running a hand through his hair, visibly unsteady from this conversation not going exactly how he had planned. “Your mom was asking where you were.”

 

“We were getting ready to come down before we were interrupted,” Hux says with a pointed glance at the door and a bland smile.

 

“Tell Leia we’ll be right down,” Kylo tells him, stepping away from the door with a clear invitation for Poe to use it. Poe takes the suggestion, glancing over his shoulder to where Hux is now bent gathering his shoes, and pauses beside Kylo.

 

“She’s your mom, Ben,” Poe tells him, a pleading note in the words.

 

“A disappointment we all have to live with,” he grits out and watches Poe’s expression fall as he realizes he won’t be able to be the hero who brings Leia’s son back to her. “I’ll be down in a minute,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. When he turns back into the room Hux is sitting on the bed, trying to look as if he’s tying shoes that are already tied. He glances up when he hears Poe walking down the hallway and drops the pretext of being absorbed.

 

“Ready?”

 

“No,” he answers truthfully, shoulders sagging, but when Hux walks over and reaches out for his hand he takes it and leads them both out the door and down the hallway. He hesitates at the top of the stairs, the sound of voices drifting up and the slamming of the front door announcing even more guests. There won’t be as many people as there were last night but in many ways that’s worse; everyone who will be here has known him since he was a child, watched him grow up and fade away from his parents lives, heard the tales of all his failures, and there’ll be no escape.

 

Hux waits patiently, not saying anything while Kylo takes time to collect himself, but when it becomes clear Kylo isn’t going to be able to take the first step Hux does it for him, foot falling on the top step with a soft creak, the second, their arms stretching out behind him as he keeps walking but refuses to let go.  “Alright, I’m coming, he grouses, hurrying to cover the small distance separating them, and Hux doesn’t comment on the irritation in his voice, lets Kylo pretend he would’ve gotten there himself eventually and that Hux is just rushing him. Hux walks with a confident stride, each step carefully measured and landing surely on the stairs and Kylo finds it’s not so hard to let Hux lead him, to follow behind him, Hux’s stance that of a general heading into battle.

 

He’s surprised by how well it goes, his anxiety slipping away with every relative who seems genuinely happy to see him, who shake Hux’s hand and comment on how handsome the two of them look together. Poe strategically keeps his distance, always wrapped up in conversation with someone else when they pass by and he swears Rey is eavesdropping, seemingly always needing to talk to someone within ten feet of wherever they’re standing, but Hux presses a glass of wine into one hand and holds his other one, and by the time the glass is empty he’s spoken to nearly everyone in the room without incident and is finally starting to feel like coming home was the right decision.

 

Hux disappears from his side and he looks around the room, startled to see him tucked away with Han. Hux is wearing a tense look on his face and Han is wringing his hands, a startling sight since Kylo has never seen his father look nervous, even when dealing with some of his shadier business contacts Han has held himself tall and talked his way out of every bit of trouble he’s ever managed to get himself into. He’s making his way toward them when a small hand grabs his arm and tugs him around.

 

“Ben Solo!” Maz exclaims, peering up at him from her oversized glasses, her grip keeping him held to the spot with all the strength her four foot nothing frame has.

 

“Aunt Maz, it’s good to see you.”

 

“Come here, come here,” she orders, waving him down until he crouches at her eye level, a wrinkled old hand coming to rest on his face, her gaze unwavering as she meets his eyes. “I was wrong, you’re not Ben Solo.”

 

“No, Maz, it’s me,” he says gently, concerned for the old woman.

 

She shakes her head. “I am not going senile, young man,” she scolds him.  “I know who you are. You were Ben Solo, but you’re not anymore. I can see it in your eyes. Those are not the eyes of a Solo. Or an Organa.” She tilts her head and studies him more closely and he resists the urge to squirm. “You’re finally becoming who you were meant to be.”

 

He ducks his head but doesn’t make her remove her hand. He’s felt lost ever since he answered Leia’s phone call weeks ago, wondering why the approval of his family means so much, why their disapproval hurts so much, if he’s determined to run away from them. He swallows, looks into Maz’s eyes, almost buglike behind her thick frames, and asks the question he’s been dodging for years. “And who am I supposed to be?”

 

She pats his cheek and looks at him with kindness. “I’m not sure,” she answers honestly, “But I think that young man you’re with, the one who can barely take his eyes off you, might know.” She nods over his shoulder and he turns his head to see Hux accepting an awkward embrace from Han, a startled look on his face as Han wraps arms around him. “Go,” Maz tells him, letting him go with a pat on the cheek and turning away, muttering about finding Chewie. He turns back to Hux, who has been released from Han’s hug and is trying to tug wrinkles out of his shirt.

 

The question he hasn’t been able to answer is why he agreed to come home, and why he dragged Hux along. He had reasoned with himself that it was natural to want to bring Hux since Leia knew, wanted to show off the good in his life to try to distract from the bad. But that's not it, not entirely. He’s always operated on the assumption that Hux will leave, will realize he can do so much better and Kylo will be left with nothing but cold sheets and memories.

 

But there’s always been this little glimmer of hope, closely held, something he doesn’t think about too much for fear that he’d extinguish it, that maybe Hux will stay. He can’t have a future if he’s still weighed down by the past. Maybe that’s what Maz meant, that he has to let go of the past to become who he’s meant to be.

 

And he’s more certain than ever that what he’s meant to be is Hux’s.

 

Han has left by the time Kylo has navigated the room to Hux, who is blinking slowly down at his wine glass. “Hey,” he greets. “Everything alright?”

 

“Yeah,” Hux replies with a confused shrug. “Yes. You’re dad, he, he hugged me.”

 

“I saw,” he says with a laugh at Hux’s lost expression. “What was that all about anyway?”

 

“He thanked me for bringing you home. He’s missed you, Kylo. He’s glad your back. He’s just not sure how to say it.”

 

Kylo lets out a sigh and leans back against the wall beside Hux. “Han and I, we’ve never really known how to talk to each other. There were a lot of long, silent car rides in my teenage years.”

 

Hux doesn’t say anything, just tangles their fingers together, and they stand and watch the mix of people unti Leia steps into the room, tugs her apron off over her head and announces dinner is ready.

 

Kylo will never understand what secret power Leia has to be able to squeeze two dozen people around her dining room table, but amazingly they somehow all fit, Han at the head in a sweater Leia has no doubt force him to swap for his usual oil stained t-shirt, Leia beside him. He’s surprised when Han gestures him to the other chair beside him but he takes it, and when Hux sits he scoots his own chair just a little closer, their thighs touching every time they shift.

 

They’re end of the table is far from silent, Leia and Luke showing their affection for each other in the usual manner of bickering, Poe and Finn and Rey talking loudly over each other. Han and Hux and himself are silent by comparison, answering questions but contributing little else to the conversation than to ask for this dish or that. Han does seem glad to see him, keeps offering him smiles and opening his mouth as if to talk before closing it again, but he brightens every time Kylo says something to him, even if it’s usually just asking for the salt.

 

Kylo has just stuffed a bite of what is approximately half of the slice of pumpkin pie into his mouth when Poe speaks. “So tell me again how you to met?”

 

“It was at-”

 

“No,” he interrupts Hux, “I want to hear it from Ben.” There’s a mean look to his eye, something cruel and dark brought out by the third empty wine glass sitting beside him. Apparently he’s decided that if he can’t earn Leia’s approval by convincing her prodigal son to return he’s going to cut Kylo down to make him pay for his refusal to play his part in this family drama.

 

“Hux tells it better,” he mumbles out with the half chewed food tucked against his cheek as he shares a confused glance with Hux. He doesn’t know why it matters who tells it, it’s an embarrassing story either way.

 

“And I want to hear you tell it.”

 

“Drop it, Poe,” Finn says from next to him, but Poe ignores him.

 

“We’ve got this theory, see, Rey and I. Ben Solo manages to land this fantastic guy who’s way out of his league, but no one knows anything about him until Leia invites you home.”

 

“I wonder why,” he grumbles under his breath. Hux is tense beside him and when he looks across the table Leia refuses to meet his eyes, too busy pretending to straighten the napkin in her lap.

 

“What are you trying to say?” Hux asks pointedly, knuckles so tense around the fork he’s holding they turn white until he forces himself to unfurl them and drop his hand into his lap.

 

“Where’d you meet him Benny, really?”

 

“That’s enough,” Han says, voice gruff and just loud enough it attracts attention from farther on down the table.

 

“I already told-”

 

“You think we’re making it up,” Hux breaks in, ice in his voice as he catches on. “You think we’re lying.”

 

Poe grins, and it makes him look like a cat who’s just seen the biggest mouse and is getting ready to strike. “I knew he was too smart for you, Benny.”

 

Kylo looks at Han, takes in the scathing look he’s directing at Poe, and turns to Leia. “Leia?” His voice shakes when he calls her name and slowly she looks at him. He’s seen her go head to head with powerful men who think they’re better than her because she’s small and a woman and never back down, so the fact that she won’t look directly at him tell him all he needs to know. “You think I’m making this up? That I’m so pathetic I had to, what, pay him? Blackmail him? This is what you think of me?”

 

He had been nineteen and a Political Science major, up to then a good student who had made the Dean’s List the semester before, hopeful that following in Leia’s footsteps would make her like him, make her proud of him, when one of the other students in an elective chemistry class, a tall, skinny boy with sandy blonde hair who he had made out with at a frat party the weekend before had given him a sneering look when Kylo sat down at the desk beside him and muttered ‘fag’ under his breath and turned to face away from him, laughing with his friends and shooting Kylo mocking looks. It wasn’t the first time he had had the word slung at him, but it hurt worse this time, coming from someone he had spent the past three days fantasizing about going out with, maybe falling in love with, especially when the first year of college had given him hope that the trials of high school, of being the weird kid with no friends were finally behind him.

 

He had mumbled something even though no one was paying him any attention and left, managing to keep the tears back until he was alone in his dorm. He had called Leia, hands shaking as he dialed, because Padme had passed away the summer before and he had no one else to talk to. Leia had answered, and after his fourth shaky sob, unable to get any words out, she had sighed heavily and said “I’m busy, Ben. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,” and hung up.

 

He had thought she could never hurt him so much again.

 

He was wrong.

 

“What am I supposed to think, Ben?” She asks, defensive. “Poe and Rey are right. You never even mentioned this man, and then suddenly you’re bringing him over for Thanksgiving dinner. And I’m supposed to believe a successful engineer sees something in an almost thirty failure who waits tables for a living? Tell me Ben, _what am I supposed to think?”_

 

“You’re supposed to think he’s amazing.” Hux’s voice isn’t loud, but it’s strong and steady. “You’re supposed to think he's incredible. That he’s beautiful and kind and the strongest person you ever met and your breath is supposed to catch every time he walks into the room because you still can’t believe you got this lucky. You’re chest is supposed to hurt when you look at him sometimes because you never thought you could love someone this much.”

 

“Hux,” his voice almost breaks on the word and Hux turns to look at him, lays a hand on his thigh. “You don’t have to.”

 

“Yes, I do. I spent my entire life biting my tongue and going along with what my father wanted because I thought it would make him love me. Instead all I got was a degree I never wanted and a life that never felt like my own, not until you. I refuse to let anyone make you feel like you aren’t good enough when you are. You’re everything.”  Kylo swallows, throat tight and eyes stinging, unable to find the words to tell Hux that he’s wrong, that Kylo isn’t everything, Hux is. “If there’s a failure here it isn’t your son, Mrs. Organa. It’s your inability to see him.”

 

“Hux.” His voice does break now, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because Hux is still looking at him with fierce adoration shining in his eyes and it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. “Let’s go home.”

 

There’s silence as they stand, no one saying anything as they walk around the table. Hux pauses before they leave room. “Thank you, for the worst Thanksgiving dinner I’ve ever had. I didn’t think it was possible for someone to take that title from my own family, but you’ve managed. Don’t expect to be invited to the wedding.”

 

A chair scrapes from the room and Han’s gruff voices echos to them. “You’ve done enough, Leia. Drop it for once,” and then they’re heading up the stairs.

 

Han is waiting by the front door when they come back down with nothing but a deathly silence coming from the dining room. He hands them their coats and waits in silence until they’re bundled up, Hux with keys in hand.

 

He clears his throat, and pulls Kylo in for a hug. He finds himself returning it, and it’s bittersweet when Han lets him go. “I’m sorry, Kid. There’s a lot I should’ve done different.” He knows Han doesn’t just mean now.

 

“It’s okay,” he says, and is surprised to find it is. Whatever else may have been he’s standing here now with Hux, and that counts for a lot.

 

“Be happy,” he says. “Take care of each other.” Han doesn’t try to make him promise to call, but he knows the number is still saved in his phone, thinks maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to call it once in a while.

 

“We will,” Hux answers for them both, and then they’re stepping out into the night, the door closing behind them with a final click.

 

“Did you mean it?” Kylo asks, snow crunching under his shoes. Hux stops and turns to him.

 

“Kylo-”

 

“It’s alright if you didn’t. I know it’s only been three months. I still, I’ve never had anyone stand up for me like that.”

 

“Kylo,” Hux breathes, and drops his bag to the ground, uncaring of the snow and reaches out to catch Kylo’s face in his hands. “How can you not know? I meant every single damn word of it.”

 

“Oh,” he says, and finds the words he wants to say sticking in his throat. “The wedding?” He finally croaks out. He was aiming for levity but knows he missed it entirely.

 

Hux drops his hands and bends down to pick up his bag, He’s brushing the snow off when he answers, face turned away. “Well I wasn’t quite serious about that. It’s too soon, of course.”

 

“Right.” The word is strangled when he says it, disappointment clawing at his chest, and he swallows, tries to beat the crushing feeling of despair back down, tells himself he's being ridiculous and that Hux is right. “Right, of course. Way too soon.”

 

Hux bounces the handle of his bag in his hand and the movement pulls his eye. He’s staring at that when Hux speaks again. “A year. I told myself I had to wait a year.”

 

“A year?” He asks faintly.

 

“Before I could ask you to marry me. Three months is too soon, but a year,” Hux trails off and finally looks at Kylo. The streetlights are lit, casting a warm glow and illuminating the nervous look on Hux’s face, his lip caught between his teeth.

 

“A year,” he repeats again, hating that his brain feels caught in a loop but unable to focus on anything else. “A year, a year sounds good.”

 

“Yeah?” Hux asks, a quiver to his voice even as he starts to smile.

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, and drops his own bag to reel Hux in for a kiss. It’s soft and lingering, their noses gone numb when they finally pull away. “I’m in love with you,” he confesses, and it feels like fireworks going off when Hux smiles and kisses him again.

 

“You haven’t said it back,” he whines when they finally make it inside the car, shivering because it hasn’t had time to heat up. “You can’t tell me you know when you’re going to ask me to marry you and not say it back when I do,” he reasons, catching Hux’s hand in his own.

 

“I said it in front of your entire family, doesn’t that count?” He grouses, but there’s no irritation in his voice.

 

“Nope. Doesn’t count. I want to hear you say it just for me.”

 

Hux sighs a long suffering sigh but leans over and noses along Kylo’s jaw, making him shiver from more than the cold. “I love you,” Hux whispers, low and soft, the words a gentle caress as he drags his lips over Kylo’s cheek. “I love you.” A kiss to his temple. “I love you, and I’ll never get tired of saying it.”

 

“Hux,” he keens, as Hux’s lips finally slide away.

 

“I was thinking,” Hux begins, a few miles down the road when the heater has finally kicked on. Kylo has been staring at their laced together fingers and thinking about how their hands will looks with rings on them. He makes a questioning noise to let Hux know he’s listening and he continues. “Three months is too soon to talk about marriage but I was thinking maybe, if you wanted, it isn’t too soon to move in together.” Hux clears his throat and glances over at him. “If you wanted.”

 

He brings Hux’s hand up to his mouth, presses the softest kiss to the back of it. “Hux, take us home.”

  
~End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are curious, yes, Hux does propose at the year mark. Kylo of course says yes, but they wait another year until he's finished school to get married. They buy Padme and Anakin's old house. They get a cat, Millicent, and a dog, Niney. Han visists on occassion.
> 
> Thank you for all your support and encourgement!
> 
> When I originally started this fic my plan was to write a flip on the fake dating trope- instead of pretending they're together they actually ARE together but no one believes them. As you can see I lost the thread of that because the story wanted to be something else. I may revisit that idea at some later point, but I'm so glad I got to go on this journey with Kylo and Hux.
> 
> Thank you, all of you, for reading. You are why I do this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Again, I am diligently working on the second part and plan to finish it soon.
> 
> If you enjoyed this please consider leaving a comment!
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr. I'm
> 
> cut-off-the-grain.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you again!


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